


missing you is a slow burn

by BerryliciousCheerio



Series: welcome to the new age [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/F, superhero au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 10:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3893341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerryliciousCheerio/pseuds/BerryliciousCheerio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>the one where jemma is small and sad</p>
            </blockquote>





	missing you is a slow burn

**Author's Note:**

> "I just really need you here. Skimmons."
> 
> yay!!!! more superhero au stuff!!!!

 

 

 

She calls her old number—the secure line that Skye kept open for friends and family and Jemma.  The whiskey bottle shakes in her hand, so she sets it on the table in front of her.  

“ _Hey!  You’ve reached Skye.  I’m probably out saving the world or, more likely, sleeping, but if you leave a message, I might get back to you._ ”

Jemma doubles over at the sound of Skye’s voice, tinny but alive.  So fucking alive then, and now she’s in the ground.  Logically, Jemma tries to comfort herself.  Tries to remember that Skye isn’t dead—not in a final way, at least. That nothing can ever really die.  Tries to remind herself that all the elements of Skye are being brought back into the universe, brought back to make something beautiful, but logic means nothing.  Logic feels empty when all she has is a grave and this phone.

“Ah—,” she wipes at her nose.  “I just thought I’d call you to let you know I missed you more today than yesterday.”  Her throat feels thick.  Jemma laughs bitterly.  “I sound like an idiot.”

She pauses.  This has to be the saddest scene.  A drunk girl, year and a half after her best friend’s death, calling her phone and crying and still stupidly hoping for an answer.  

“I never—I don’t think I ever told you this properly,” Jemma sniffs.  “But I really—god, Skye, I really love you.  And I just—.”  She breaks off, crying in earnest again.  

She takes another swig of whiskey, no longer noticing the burn, and maybe she should be worried.  “I just really need you here.  With—ah.  With me.  To try and do things properly this time.”  

Jemma stares at the wall, flicks her eyes to the clock, watches as the little hand flicks to the next number.  “It’s a little past two here.  Our apartment is cold, Skye.”  She nearly vomits when she says the words.  “I can’t fill it myself.”

This is awful.  This is the lowest she’s ever felt, but Jemma knows that tomorrow it will be worse, as every day since she found Skye’s body among the rubble of the Triskelion has been.  

She just had to be a fucking hero.


End file.
